The world shimmered as Zuberi stepped through the rift. No explosion. No dramatic flare. Just an eerie silence—one that felt heavier than war drums.
He emerged into a monolithic hallway, endless and cathedral-like, where obsidian columns loomed tall, etched with runes in a language older than memory. The air was thick with venom and magic. Every breath felt like sipping from a chalice of poison.
Zuberi walked forward without hesitation. His flip flops echoed — flip flop, flip flop, flip flop —like a countdown to chaos.
And there she was.
The Spider Queen.
A towering, eight-limbed monstrosity with the torso of a woman draped in blood-red armor, her silver hair flowing like silk from a wound, eyes glowing with a hunger that wasn't just for flesh—but for ascension.
She wasn't just strong.
She wasn't just regal.
She was evolving.
Her essence trembled with chaotic power, vibrating at a frequency that flirted with destruction itself. One step into the human world, and she'd cause more death than a plague.
Zuberi tilted his head, eyes narrowing. He could feel it.
She was this close to breaking into the Calamity Rank.
A walking apocalypse… if she crossed over.
But instead of fear, a slow, hungry smirk tugged at his lips.
"Tch. Too bad... your core's already on my grocery list."
He cracked his knuckles.
One by one.
POP. POP. POP.
The Spider Queen's many eyes narrowed. Her claws twitched. And she opened her mouth, letting out a guttural hiss that sounded like a hundred voices whispering doom.
But Zuberi?
He just kept walking, his aura flaring. The temperature dropped. The stone beneath him began to fracture. Runes on the walls lit up, recognizing a threat worthy of legend.
She stepped forward, blades protruding from her limbs like organic spears.
Zuberi's grin deepened.
"Let's dance, Lady long legs."
The Spider Queen lunged.
Eight limbs slicing through space like death itself—razor-sharp, infused with cursed essence. She moved like lightning laced with murder, hissing like a thousand demons in chorus.
But Zuberi?
He vanished.
One blink—and he was gone.
She stopped mid-attack, sensors twitching, confused.
A whisper tickled her ear:
"Too slow, spaghetti legs."
CRACK!
A fist slammed into her back with such force that the entire hallway crumpled inward. Walls split. Pillars shattered. She was sent skidding across the obsidian floor, claws dragging trenches in the stone.
Before she could react, he was already in front of her—arms folded, head tilted, eyes glowing with unholy confidence.
"Thought you were gonna break into Calamity Rank? Girl, you need to break into a gym first."
She screeched, enraged, magic erupting around her like a volcanic curse storm. Spikes launched from her body, webs of pure essence spun like divine traps—but Zuberi danced through it all, each dodge a slap in the face of physics.
He didn't block.
He didn't deflect.
He weaved, like a shadow dipped in swagger.
Then he caught one of her limbs mid-swing—and held it.
Held it.
"You ever get that feeling you're outta your league?"
BOOM.
He twisted, snapped the limb like a twig, and drop-kicked her straight into a column, her body folding like paper. The impact turned the stone into dust.
She screamed again—but this time, there was fear. Actual fear.
Zuberi walked toward her slowly, cracking his neck.
> "You were tryna invade my world. On my kid's birthday. While my wife's in labor?"
He picked her up by her throat like she was nothing—like she weighed less than a secret.
"Nah. You messed up."
Her core flickered—vulnerable, exposed in the chaos of her unraveling essence. With zero ceremony, Zuberi reached into her chest cavity and ripped it out like he was pulling a plug from a cheap outlet.
The Spider Queen spasmed—then fell limp, armor cracking, limbs twitching in defeat.
He looked at the glowing, pulsing core. It shivered in his hand.
"Yeah… this'll do."
He pocketed it casually, as if he just picked up a snack from a convenience store. Then he turned, walking back toward the rift portal, brushing dust off his shirt.
Before stepping through, he paused—and glanced back at her broken body.
"Tell the next rift boss to bring two cores. I'm feeling generous."
WHOOSH.
He disappeared through the rift.
The battlefield was finally silent.
Iloris sat on the rubble, wrecked, like a soldier after a war he wasn't trained for. His squad lounged around him, popping potions like over-the-counter painkillers, trying to patch up bruised pride and broken bones. The monster corpses were being dismantled by haulers with cold efficiency—blood, cores, limbs… all being processed like factory goods.
Just as Iloris raised a hand to wipe sweat from his brow—
The rift pulsed.
A beat. A hum. A final breath.
Then, with a faint pop like static being swallowed by silence—
Zuberi stepped out.
Flip-flops.
Nightwear trousers.
Then he's shirtless.
And sunglasses (heaven knows where he got it) that didn't belong anywhere but still looked criminally fine on his face.
He looked like he just stepped out to buy noodles at midnight—not tore through a rift queen like yesterday's trash.
The rift sealed behind him with a gentle sigh.
Iloris opened his mouth to speak.
Zuberi vanished.
Iloris just slowly dropped his hand to his face and facepalmed so hard it echoed.
"Bro… give me a damn break."
Zuberi reappeared in the delivery room like a ghost with purpose.
The room was in chaos.
Doctors scrambling. Machines beeping. His wife's essence flickering like a dying candle. Nurses moved around her like shadows chasing time. She looked pale. Weak. So damn tired.
But she waited for him.
And he felt it. That thread of connection—they shared something deeper than words. Something sacred.
He walked forward.
No words.
Just presence.
He leaned down, kissed her forehead, and whispered against her skin:
"Thank you… for being strong. For waiting."
Then he pulled out the core—refined and glowing, still warm with power from the Queen herself.
He fed it to her gently, like an offering to the divine.
The room trembled.
Her eyes fluttered.
Essence surged through her veins like sunlight after a storm. Machines beeped frantically before stabilizing. Her chest rose with strength, not struggle. Her fingers twitched—alive.
And then—
A baby cried.
A small sound. Fragile. New.
Zuberi froze.
His hand went to his cheek.
Wetness.
He hadn't realized he was crying.
He smiled through the tears, looking down at his wife and their newborn child.
"You made it, little one…"
"You both did."